


Eddie + Kitchen = Disaster

by Miker



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, cooking fail, only the first chapter, semi-beta, slight blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miker/pseuds/Miker
Summary: Do not put Eddie in a kitchen or else bad things would happen...
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meisterdani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meisterdani/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to Dani who's an amazing freaking QUEEN to me and everyone! 
> 
> Huge thank you to @withlightning for betaing the first chapter. Any other mistakes made are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone, and enjoy reading ;D

“Buck, help!” Eddie was panicking. 

Within seconds Buck was by his side, worry written all over his face. “Wha- What happened?”

Scanning around his surroundings he found Eddie holding a pan and,  _ is that… is that pan on fire _ , Buck thought to himself. Eddie’s holding out the pan with one hand and the other desperately trying to find something to extinguish it, Eddie waved his arms around like a helpless toddler. Despite the dangerous situation Eddie was in, Buck found it rather cute to see Eddie panic like a loose chicken.

Finally out of his trance, Buck hurried over grabbing the lid lying nearby, covering the pan with it. The fire extinguished within a matter of seconds, the only evidence of a fire was the charred residue left behind. “What are you doing?!?” Snatching the pan away from Eddie’s grip, Buck set it aside on the stove, safe away from Eddie. 

Buck took Eddie’s hand in his, caressing his palm with his fingers. Buck’s eyes scanned for any injuries Eddie might have sustained from the little stunt he pulled. Pulling them closer to his face he flipped them around, inspecting every crevice, every surface of his hand that may have been exposed to the scorching pan and looked for any signs of burns. Fortunately, there weren’t any, maybe a few burnt hairs and a slight red inflammation, but he’d live. 

“What are you doing?” Buck repeated, still rubbing smooth circles over his knuckle with his thumb. “You scared the living hell out of me.”

“Sorry. I was trying to make some popcorn for the movie. Then I realized I forgot to add oil to the kernels so I tried to spray some pam on it… How was I supposed to know that it’ll catch on fire…”

Buck chuckled at that, “Aren’t you supposed to be fighting fires and not create them?”

There weren't any smug remarks coming from Eddie, he simply looked down at their entangled hands, guilt rising up his chest. “Sorry I tried…” 

Buck's hand shot up and cradled Eddie’s face, forcing him to look up straight into his eyes. “Eds. No. This isn’t on you okay? You’re trying to do some thing nice, and I love you for it.” Buck slid his hand to the nape of Eddie's neck, pulling him down.  Eddie's forehead resting on his shoulder, Buck planted a kiss on his temple before whispering something into his hair that sounded like, "You're so cute when you panic."

“Maybe I should burn more pans then,” Eddie retorted.

“No, don’t you dare! They’re expensive, alright?” Buck loved his kitchenware. Ever since he started cooking with Bobby at the station, he fell in love with cooking. Initially, he dreaded to cook, deeming it as a waste of time. There is way too much effort for a simple dish he can buy for a few bucks. But it wasn’t the final product that got him hooked. Admittedly, he had several (many) failed attempts when he just started, but it was the process of cooking and preparing food that he fell in love with. There was something about the preparation of food and cooking that calmed him. His tools started off with cheap dollar store pots and pans, but as his culinary skills improved, so did his equipment. Eyeing his burnt caraway pan, a part of a cookware series, he sighed in mourning for a brief second, before pushing himself away Eddie.

“Hmm, now watch this pro-” Buck puffed up his chest, “-make some real popcorn,” and winked at Eddie.

Eddie felt his eyes doing a 360, before smacking Buck's ass cheeks. “Ohhh, I’m watching, sexy,” he said, voice low and borderline flirtatious. 

Eddie leaned against the end of the countertop as he watched Buck dance across the kitchen floor, babbling on and on about the correct way to make popcorn. But all he could focus on was how content he felt. It was these little moments between them that made him fall in love with Buck a little bit more.

“Eds, can you help me dice one cup of butter? I’m gonna make some caramel sauce for the popcorn to spice it up.”

"Ya got it, Chef!" Eddie replied, before he hastily rushed towards the fridge.

Pulling the butter out of the freezer, he knocked it against the counter and mentally smacked himself for putting butter in the freezer. He thought to himself,  _ one cup of butter, how do you even measure that? Melt it down and measure it with a cup then freeze it again _ ? 

“Dice two sticks of butter, one stick is usually half a cup,” Buck leaned in from behind Eddie, answering his question before he even got the chance to ask. 

“Oh,” Eddie simply nodded, and collected another stick of butter from the fridge before grabbing a kitchen knife from the knife block.

“Careful there, Diaz. Don’t wanna cut yourself with that bad boy.”

It was a simple task that Buck gave him - how hard could it be to dice butter? It was butter, after all. What could possibly go wrong with slicing butter? Eddie took the hard, solid piece of ingredient, and placed it on the cutting board, knife in hand, ready to chop it up into little cubes. 

However, it was proved to be a very difficult task to slice through hard, frozen butter. Smacking his head he thought how stupid he was, ‘ _ wow Eddie, real smart of you… haven’t you tried spreading cold butter on a toast before? Idiot _ .’

But Eddie’s determined, he’s a Diaz after all. Nothing can stop him. Not even stone-cold butter. He glared at the yellow solid, as if his intense gaze would somehow soften it. Finally, conceding the staring contest against the inanimate object, he connected the tip of the blade with it, sawed back and forth, pushing the sharp blade down with a little force; a little more force applied with each successive movement. But the butter wouldn’t budge, leaving only a shallow trench, staring back at him as if mocking his feeble attempt to slice it. 

So he opted for an alternative method, the one he called ‘The Stabbing Method.’ Stabbing it with enough force to create a crack, a weak point that he could then split the block in half, putting his muscles to work. Gripping the handle and gently (aggressively) started stabbing the yellow brick lying on the countertop. With each failed attempt to penetrate the piece of butter, he used more and more force into stabbing it. Channeling his growing frustration into exerting greater pressure, he increased velocity as the knife slammed into the butter. The fact that he almost got defeated by a piece of butter? That was just humiliating, even in front of Buck, the one person who would never judge him for anything.

He fixed his gaze at the slightly scratched butter, threatening it to behave and comply. Moving on from the stabbing method, he squinted his eyes slightly, praying that the heated gaze he and Mr.Butter shared might have softened him a little, making it easier to slice through that piece of shit. Leaning in a little closer he whispered to the inanimate object, “You little shit, you are so going down. I am gonna slice you up into little cubes till you’re begging me to stop,” before realising how ridiculous he must have looked to a bystander, and quickly backed off.

Eddie placed the edge of the blade back into the shallow trench he made on his first attempt. Positioning the knife so it was perfectly aligned and balanced on the stick of butter. Giving the sawing method one last chance, he placed his palms on both ends of the knife, applying even pressure like he was performing CPR on one of their vics. 

“Let. Me. Cut. You.” Applying more pressure with each emphasis. The blade sank into his palm as he watched the blade slowly but surely sink deeper into the butter. But once he reached the core, it was stone-hard. So with one last breath, he mustered all his strength and gave one last push- 

And before he could even react, the butter caved and snapped in half. It all happened so fast, leaving barely any time for him to react and to realize that the knife had snapped alongside the butter. Eddie’s hands still pressed firmly onto each side of the now fragmented piece of metal, adding more pressure. The moment the blade hit the chopping board, one of the metal fragments ricocheted, digging straight into the base of his palm. Luckily his other hand was spared from any injuries. As the other fragments either fell straight onto the floor with a loud clang or projectiled around his limbs. 

Buck was by his side within a matter of seconds, yelling at him as Eddie’s adrenaline started to wear off. Jolts of hot white pain started shooting up his arm, forcing him to focus on the piece of metal that had now embedded itself uncomfortably at the base of his palm. Gripping tightly around his wrist to prevent blood loss, he gritted through his teeth as the pain intensified. He watched as blood started pooling near the wound and began its journey down his forearm. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, as his gaze followed the moving trail trickle down to his elbow. A droplet started to form and free fall down and splattered on impact with the kitchen floor.

He got reeled back to reality when he felt soft material around his wounded hand. Shaking his head slightly, trying to fine tune in to the distant voice, “Ed-e Eddie!” Buck. Buck was holding a piece of towel around the inflicted wound, applying pressure and elevating it above Eddie’s head to prevent blood from continuously spewing out.

“I’m gonna take a look, alright?” Buck asked, and Eddie nodded, still unable to form any words, grounding himself by focusing on Buck’s mouth opening and closing. 

Buck inspected his hands for the second time that evening, but this time was more delicate and gentle - like he was treating a piece of fragile porcelain. Manuevouring his head around Eddie’s hand to better assess the wound from different points of view. “You know you’re gonna be the death of me, right?” Buck held the blade still with two fingers and plucked it out, without a warning. Immediately place the red-stained towel back onto the wound and apply pressure to it, followed by yet another round of elevation. Guiding Eddie’s other hand, Buck instructed, “Elevate and place pressure. You know the drill.” 

“Owwww. Warn a guy next time before you pull a knife out of him,” Eddie yelled at the corridor as Buck entered the bathroom and reappeared after a few minutes with a first aid kit in hand.

“It’s not even that deep, I give it quarter of an inch tops! You know you’re very lucky, Eds. If it had moved a few centimeters to the right, it might have nicked an artery.” Buck unpacked some of the medical supplies, taking some gauze, sterile wash and bandages out of the kit. “What happened anyways? And why are you yelling at the butter?”

“Isn’t it pretty obvious?” 

“Enlighten me, Einstein.”

“I was trying to dice the butter but it’s stone-hard. When I tried to apply a little more pressure, the knife just snapped. By the way, you got scammed, your knife is shit.”

“Hey! Don’t diss my knife, alright? Anyways, I doubt it was  _ a little _ pressure. I heard you grunting, ‘Let me cut you,’ while you flexed your muscles, trying to chop it down.” Buck took the sterile wash and started dressing the wound, trying to be as gentle as possible. 

“You heard that?” Eddie hissed, as white burning pain radiated when the solution hit the open wound, slightly exposing his insides to the outside elements. 

“Eddie, I love you, but you’re no longer welcome in the kitchen.” Buck said.

“Why?” Eddie pouted.

“Cause you’re a hazard.” Buck finished up bandaging up Eddie’s hand, stealing a kiss before picking up the kit and herded one Eddie Diaz out of the kitchen, drawing an invisible line segregating the living room and the kitchen. “Do not cross this line or bad things are gonna happen.”

“Ughh, seriously? It’s not even a big deal!”

“Excuse me, sir. You almost set the house on fire. Then, proceeded to stab yourself and just last week you almost caused an explosion by using a pressure cooker. So hate me if you have to, but I’m banning you from the kitchen. I love you too much to have you end up six feet under. Go lay down on the couch, I’ll bring snacks for the movie. Gimme fifteen minutes, top.”

Eddie knew deep down that Buck was right, it never ended well when he was alone in the kitchen. But before he could scurry away to the comfort of the couch, Buck grabbed his wrist, pulling his wounded hand in for a kiss.

“What’s that for?”

“Chris taught me that. Makes it heal faster if you kiss it better.” Buck said before he hurried back to the kitchen to finish up the snacks.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been a month since Eddie was banned from the kitchen and prohibited from using any of the cookware in the kitchen. Not that there’s much of a difference from before, since Buck’s usually the one in the relationship that does the cooking and Eddie’s the one responsible for cleaning up afterwards.

When their first anniversary came around the corner, it was only natural for Eddie to want to redeem himself from his cooking fiasco, a month prior. Deciding on cooking a romantic dinner for the both of them he went full Eddie Diaz mode, making sure that this would only end with a success and hopefully a very happy Buck in bed. 

It might have taken him hours to settle on Grilled Lamb Chops as the dish he’s going to make, but no one other than Eddie himself needs to know. He had his fair share of watching Bobby preparing Lamb Chops for one of the 118 gatherings, and he’s confident that with a little extra studying and visual guidance on YouTube he’s going to ace this dish with flying colours. 

Weeks prior to D-day, he spent hours studying the different methods and techniques to cook a lamb chop, and the numerous things to look out for when seasoning and grilling. Diving headfirst into various cooking channels, watching numerous YouTube videos and scouring the internet for the best recipe. Not to mention that this time, Eddie paid extra attention to the safety precautions to avoid yet another *incident*. Eddie’s not going to accidentally set his kitchen ablazed, or sustain any form of injuries, he would not let that to happen - *again* - not this time.

Eddie was prepared, determined to prove to Buck that he is worthy to be back in the kitchen. On D-day itself he took the day off, making sure that he had ample time to prepare for their dinner and even accounted for some extra time for minor kitchen mishaps (which would not happen at all!). 

At the grocery store he spent time inspecting each individual piece of chop displayed in front of him. Recalling from an article that he read online that fresh tender chops should be a light red, finely textured meat with a layer of smooth white fat. Which was very different from choosing steaks, where marbling and even distribution of fats are very important to the taste and texture of the final product.

Glancing down at his watch and realizing that he was left with a mere few hours before the end of Buck’s shift. He sped up his selection process and picked out the chop that he deemed to be the best the shop had to offer. Zooming through the store and picking up items from the remainder of the list. Having gathered the rest of the missing ingredients, he rushed towards the cashier and grabbed a bottle of wine impromptuly. 

He completed the grocery run within record time and raced back home for phase two. Unpacking everything out of the bag he displayed everything out on the kitchen Island. Double checking the ingredients against the list on his phone making sure that he indeed did get everything necessary. He began the long and tedious process of chopping dicing and measuring every single ingredient to a tee, into separate bowls. Exactly like how those generic cooking TV shows portray. Everything was going smoothly and to Eddie’s surprise, he hadn't accidentally killed himself or injured himself in any way, yet. 

Grabbing the piece of chop, and spoke to it in a friendly tone, recalling that one time when ‘fun fact Buck’ told him that cattles in Japan listen to classical music and get acupunctures or relaxation massages by farmers so that their meat would be extra tender in texture and compared to other beefs sold on the market.

“So here’s a proposal. I’m gonna give you the message of your life and you’re gonna come out of the oven perfect. Deal?” Directing this towards the still piece of meat on the counter fully expecting it to respond, but was met with silence only. 

With that said he sprinkled some salt, pepper, garlic and olive oil onto the surface of the lamb and began rubbing the seasoning in. Incorporating them deep into the meat running smooth circles with his thumb and gently massaging it. Making sure that the meat soaks up all the flavorful goodness the spices can offer. He’s been working on the piece of meat for a couple of minutes, alternating from giving small talks and massages before his vision caught the label on a container.

The word ‘sugar’ stared right back at him, mocking him in silence. “Fuck” he muttered out, his movement halting abruptly. Glancing up at the clock, Eddie mentally smacks his head for his carelessness and idiocy. There wasn't enough time for him to run back to the grocery and get a new piece, he needs to improvise...

Improvising is what he does best, improvisation was one of the many skills he picked up while he served and Eddie continued to master and harness this skill in the 118. To a firefighter, improvisation is a life saving skill that they must be equipped with. There are more times than Eddie could count where his ability to quickly improvise on the spot directly or indirectly saved someone’s life during calls. Making full use of this skill he learnt over the years, it only took Eddie mere seconds to come up with a contingency plan. 

Turning on the faucet, he gently rinsed Michelle (yes, he did indeed name the piece of lamb chop Michelle) under the steady stream of water. Trying to clean out all the excess seasoning that adhered to the surface of the meat with high affinity. After what felt like eternity of salvaging, Eddie removed Michelle from the stream, and tapped dry her between some paper towels when she’s clean and sugar-free. “Nothing a little washing can’t fix. It’s just like a little shower for you, Michelle” Directing the last part to Michelle and desperately trying to convince himself that everything’s going to turn out swimmingly.

Looking at the recipe on his phone Eddie sighed. “Now I just have to repeat step three to four again. And problem solved. Look! Michelle, we’re such a great team.” Giving her a quick pat on the back before busied himself with the mentioned steps.

Moving on to the final stages, Eddie pre-heated the oven as he continued to engage in his one sided small talk with Michelle. Eddie had been getting better at talking and constructing healthy communication within the past year or so. Buck definitely played a major role in this transformation, helping Eddie to open up and better express his own emotions instead of bottling things up like he used to do. The ‘suck it up’ mentality that used to dominate him was long gone. This transformation progressed in a series of small steps. Initially, it started off with Eddie sharing snippets of his day to day life, and not solely Christopher’s but  _ his  _ life. Although, most of the time it was Buck’s voice that filled the silence, but his effort to try and be more open about his feelings was clearly noticeable. Slowly, it moved on from sharing his afternoons to the heavier stuff, like his feelings and insecurities. Though one constant was Buck, always by his side providing him with comfort and words of encouragement.

Carefully placing Michelle on the rack in the oven, Eddie bidding her a final goodbye before setting a timer for 30 minutes. 

Using those 30 minutes Eddie quickly finished up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen countertop. It was a rather quick clean up since he kept up with the ‘clean as you go’ tip mentioned by some cooking experts on YouTube. 

Finally done with the post-cooking mess and time to spare, Eddie could finally step away from the war-torned kitchen and rest for the first time today. Checking on Michelle one last time through the oven glass door and snapping a picture, Eddie flopped down onto the sofa and switched on the television for some mindless re-runs of a never ending soap opera.

Eddie doesn’t know when or how he fell asleep on the couch. All he noticed was that he was startled awake by the sound of alarm blaring. Slightly disoriented from the impromptu nap he rubbed the base of his palm over his bleary eyes. That’s when Eddie’s gaze landed on the clock on the wall which displayed, 7:00. 

“Shit! Michelle!” Eddie scrambled to his feet, removing Michelle from the oven and placed the rack on the stove.

“Shit. It’s a little burnt.” Eddie sighed, feeling a little defeated. “Fuck, she’s been in there for an extra 5 minutes” he groaned.

Eddie transferred her from the baking rack to a plate. Eddie rested his chin between his palms and stared blankly at Michelle. He had no idea what to do with her nor what to do next. Chuck it away?  _ Then dinner’s screwed. _ Come up with a new dish?  _ It’s a little late for that considering that it took him nearly a month to plan this. _ He’s only left with one option, salvage it. But how? 

Then it hits him, like the apple that fell on Issac Newton, an idea, a way to save Michelle came to him. Eddie can hear Buck’s voice playing in his head “cheese makes everything better, ya can hide any mistakes by spamming cheese.” 

His train of thought was disturbed by a ding from his phone. Fishing it out of his pocket he was faced with Buck’s name. A message. 

_ Buck: I just got off work ;> be back in 15 _

_ Eddie: Already?  _

_ Buck: Why? Ya don’t miss me >;  _

_ Eddie: No! See ya back home. _

_ Buck: WHAT?!? You don’t miss me? *crying emoji* _

_ Eddie: You know what I mean! _

_ Buck: luv you _

_ Eddie: I love you too babe _

_ Buck: I love you more <3 _

_ Eddie: Drive home safe! _

Without a second thought, he swung open the fridge door, digging through various ingredients that Buck bought in the last grocery run.

“No… no… mMm… not this one…” Eddie muttered to himself while he pushed around different frozen food aside.

“There you go!” Eddie's eyes widened at the sight of the yellow goodness in front of him.

*spam cheese. Cheese makes everything taste so much better… Cheese cheese cheese.* Buck’s voice narrated the word cheese in repeat in his mind.

Eddie sprinkled a layer of mozzarella cheese that he found lying in the corner of the fridge and layered some cheddar cheese on top just to add a bit more flavour to it. Looking down at the bowl of cottage cheese Buck made a few days back, Eddie contemplated with himself whether or not to add some to it. After moments of internalised debate, he shrugged and dribbled some across Michelle, just to spice things up a little.

A cheese covered Michelle was pushed back into the oven for another three minutes to melt and caramelize the surface of the cheesy goodness. 

And as if on cue he heard keys jingling right when he shut the oven door close for the second time this evening. 

“What's that smell?” Buck said while he unloaded his duffle bag off himself and moved his way into the kitchen.

“Just a little something I made.” Eddie replied with a grin.

“Ooo, Chef Diaz? I can get used to that. Just promise me that you won’t burn the place down. I actually quite like this place.” Buck teased.

Ignoring Buck’s comment Eddie pulled Buck in by his waist and connected their lips. Speaking into those soft lips “Dinner’s ready in 10, go wash up. You stink.” Before Buck could even retort with a sly remark he was interrupted by the alarm blaring.

Eddie immediately sprang away from Buck’s personal space and was next to the oven staring back at Michelle through the glass. 

“Wow. Seriously Eds? Food before dude? Fine, have it your way!” Storming into their bedroom.

Eddie inspected Michelle through the glass pane, and decided that she needed a few more minutes. Dialing down the temperature a few notches, he left Michelle in the oven for another two minutes to achieve that perfect golden brown colouration featured in every cook book. 

At the same time, he quickly gathered all the utensils needed for the evening, placed some candles around the dining area and littered some rose petals across the table. Trying to recreate one of those cliche overdone romantic sets featured in movies. 

Fidgeting with the wine glasses and utensils, Eddie tried to match everything to the perfect angle before realizing that Michelle was still in the oven. He managed to run back just in 

time to pull her out before she turned into a charred piece of garbage. 

“Michelle you gotta stop scaring me like this.” Taking his phone out to snap a picture of the final product before transferring it onto their respective plates. Wiping down the edges with some paper towels, cause why not. That’s what they all do in master chef right?

“Okay. Sit still and look pretty.” Laying out their plates on the dining table, Eddie gave one last adjustment.

“Hmm, you look absolutely delicious Michelle-” and that’s when Buck chose to peep out behind Eddie, resting his chin on his shoulder. Startling him in the process.

“Who’s Michelle and should I be jealous?-” then a look of dread suddenly washed over him “-Oh…” Buck took a step back, away from Eddie 

“Oh?”

“-that’s why you said no right? Because of Michelle and this is gonna be some cliche break up dinner and... and-” 

Eddie interrupted Buck’s rant with a hysterical laugh. Stepping aside revealing the two nicely plated lamb chops. “Michelle Buck, Buck Michelle. ”

  
  


“Oh,” Buck’s full-on blushing right now, both from embarrassment and flustered by Eddie’s romantic gesture. 

“Here take a seat” Eddie pulled the chair back gesturing Buck to take a seat.

“I can get used to this” shooting another wink at Eddie.

Buck gave Eddie a skeptical look unsure if it was wise for him to consume what Eddie made, before Buck took a bite of the slice of the ‘slightly’ overcooked piece of meat. Shellshocked by what he tasted “I... I…” Buck opened and closed his mouth before settling with, “I like how you tried to incorporate different elements into this dish.” Buck tried to sugar coat it but the more he chewed on it, the more sugar seeped out from the tough piece of meat. It was just… gross to say the least. So he resorted to swallowing it whole instead, taking a big gulp of wine to help ease the process. 

To be frank, Buck would have never in a million years even attempted to put  _ this _ anywhere near his mouth. The meat was way too sweet for a lamb chop, there was too much cheese which dominated the whole dish, and the meat was tough and dry. But he powered through, chewing as minimum as humanly possible for him to swallow it whole. 

After what felt like an eternity (in reality only a few minutes had passed) of butchering his palate with the overbearing flavours he’s tasting. Eddie finally took his first bite and immediately spat it out in disgust. 

Eddie’s scrunched his brows together. “Buck! How-? This is not edible at all!” 

Buck remained silent, despite how horrible Eddie executed, he still loved the gesture and the thought his boyfriend put into making them a romantic dinner.

“It’s literal garbage, Buck. It’s sweet cause I used sugar instead of salt, definitely overcooked and the cheese is just making everything ten times worse” Eddie laughed at his own mistakes as he lists them out one by one. 

“Cause you made it.” It was barely above a whisper and Buck looked at him like a kicked puppy “I don’t wanna discourage you from cooking and I love everything you make for me anyways.” Scratching the back of his neck nervously. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to suffer from  _ this _ ” gesturing at the two plates in front of them.

“Well… Pizza?” Buck shrugged trying to make light of everything.

“Yeah sure.” Eddie said nonchalantly, though he was still a little disappointed in himself for screwing things up again.

Eddie swiftly moved back to the kitchen pulling out the pre-made frozen pizza from the fridge and set it inside the oven.

“You’ve planned this?” Buck was stunned by Eddie. Eddie who’s usually confident in everything he does; Eddie who does not plan for failures; Eddie who is perfect. 

“Yeb! Apparently, even I don’t trust myself to make a fancy meal either” 

Buck wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, pressing his chest firmly against Eddie’s back, and rested his chin on Eddie’s shoulder like two matching puzzle pieces. Burying his head in Eddie's neck. “Eds, I love you. Lamb chop or not, just maybe leave the cooking to me next time, alright? You can be my sue chef.” 

“Fine, fine. Chef whatever you say.” Eddie turned around, hooking his arms around Buck’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. 

Pulling away for air they pressed their foreheads together, staring into each other’s eyes. Everything that needed to be said was conveyed in that one simple loving look. 

Buck was the first to break the silence. “Happy 1 year anniversary, Eds.”

“Happy 1 year Anniversary, Buck. Sorry I screwed up today”

“As long as you’re with me by my side I’m happy, I don’t need you to make me some fancy dinner to woo me.”


End file.
